


His Magic Button

by therealfroggy



Category: Reaper (TV)
Genre: Hot Spots, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/therealfroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and his galpal, Andi, have been reading girly magazines. Maybe the Devil will appreciate the tips they picked up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Magic Button

“That is so not true!” Sam scoffed, taking another swig of beer.

Andi giggled. “It totally is; guys love having their wrists nibbled and licked! It's like, a universal male hot spot.”

Sam grinned, putting his beer down in order to tickle Andi. She shrieked with laughter. “Is not. I don't like having my wrists nibbled. Sounds like cannibalism to me.”

They both grinned. Sam relaxed back into the couch with the girly magazine and his beer bottle. Andi was snuggled comfortably against him, but recently, that didn't make Sam think of sex, or breasts, or anything even vaguely related to the beautiful girl sitting next to him.

They'd broken up, you see.

Andi was a really good sport about it, and Sam was grateful. When he confessed to her that they needed to break up because he was absurdly attracted to – and being hit on by – his boss (and he'd had to stop her from fainting when she'd thought he was talking about Ted, before he had time to explain), she had accepted the fact and they were back to being close friends.

With the added benefit of Andi categorizing Sam as gay, thus naming him her new gal pal. This was a good thing because it led to evenings like this one; beer or tea on Andi's couch with absurd amounts of chocolate and films Sam would never have watched otherwise. It was a very nice contrast to all the reaping and craziness, and Sam liked it.

“Seriously, though, you should try it out,” Andi advised, pointing to the article they'd been reading ( _His Magic Buttons – How To Make Him Want It Bad_ ). “With the Devil, I mean.”

Sam grinned sheepishly. It was weird to be talking about his relationship with the Devil, and especially to have Andi give him advice on how to please another guy. But it was kind of fun, too.

Sock and Ben could never know anything, of course. They thought Sam was pretending to be gay to win Andi over (despite the fact that Sam and Andi had been going out at the time Sam realized stuff), and Sam wasn't about to correct them.

“Do you call him the Devil when you're with him?” Andi said, suddenly serious. “I mean, he doesn't have a name, does he?”

“Uh, he kinda has a lot of names. He says I can choose,” Sam said, laughing. “I like calling him Satan, 'cause it annoys him. But I'm running out of new names; I should look it up. I'm sure every culture known to man has some name for him.”

“Call him Diablo,” Andi said, smiling like mad. “He'll probably like that.”

Sam laughed all the way home over that.

***

When he next saw the Devil, Sam found himself considering the stupid article in the magazine at Andi's. _The wrists, huh?_ He smiled as the Devil approached him, handed him a file, then grabbed a hold of him and teleported them both to a bed. Sam didn't bother asking which one it was.

“You have a case for me, and yet you're abducting me to waste perhaps hours of precious time doing stuff with you that'll probably make me go blind or something?” Sam said, trying not to grin. He loved it when the Devil just flashed them away; it usually meant lots of sex. And Sam really liked sex.

“You should learn your church lore, Sam; it's masturbation that will make you go blind. This will just make sure you burn in hell, which we all know is what you'll be doing anyway in a few decades,” the Devil said lightly. “Also, while good morals tell you that it's work before pleasure, I've always favoured the inverse form of that statement.”

“Pleasure first, I can get with that,” Sam pondered, then threw the file to the night stand. He pulled his sweater off and opened his belt. “Business as usual?”

The Devil leered at him. “Oh, Sam, I would hate to think that this has become routine. But since you ask...”

Sam stripped efficiently. They never did love-making; it was always fun and dirty sex. And Sam liked it that way; there was no awkwardness (well, not since the third time they'd fucked, at any rate) and no fuss. Just a lot of sex.

The Devil slowly took his clothes off, garment by garment, folding them and placing them over the only chair in the room. Naked, he turned to Sam and joined him on the bed (which was disturbingly pastel-coloured – Sam had gotten used to the dark and tasteful interior of the Devil's own bedroom).

Sam looked at the Devil's left wrist, unable to forget Andi's words. Were they really that sensitive? He could try; he had nothing to lose, after all.

Slowly, he took the Devil's hand and lifted it to his lips. Turning it over, Sam breathed a little hot air over the tender skin there. The Devil's eyebrow rose. Okay, so not yet.

Sam gently touched his tongue to the Devil's skin. The Devil drew in a sharp breath, and Sam figured he was on to something. Slowly, he let his tongue glide around, just over where a normal person would have a main artery.

The Devil was smiling a little now, his eyes drifting closed. Sam took this as encouragement and took little nips at the skin, soothing it with his tongue after releasing it and then scraping his teeth over it again.

The Devil gave a little moan. “Mm, Sam, that's really nice. Where did you learn it?”

Sam didn't want to own up to the fact that he'd read girly magazines with Andi, so he just shrugged, then released the Devil's wrist. He picked up the other one, and began licking with broad swipes of his tongue at the warm skin. He let his tongue play over the strong wrist, a nice contrast to the thin, soft skin covering it.

“Stop it, kiddo.”

Sam stopped and released the Devil's wrist as if burnt. “What? What did I do?”

“I'm becoming uncomfortably hard, that's what you did,” the Devil said, completely shameless and with a huge smirk on his face. “So you just stop, and I'll get on to fucking you without coming over the sheets.”

Sam blushed furiously at that, but not out of embarrassment. It was more a matter of heat and colour rushing to his face at the sound of the Devil promising to _fuck him_. He did it all the time, but hearing him say it...

Sam smiled tentatively. “Okay.” He rolled onto his stomach, presenting his unguarded back to the Devil.

Who proceeded to turn him over again before leaning in to kiss him. “Let's try this one for a change,” he said, then spread Sam's legs.

Sam grunted in discomfort as he was filled. There was more than enough lube (some substance that was always there as soon as Sam was naked; he suspected a demon thing going down), but he still hadn't quite gotten used to just... taking it like that. Even when the Devil had the good manners to go slow.

“Ah, Sam, you're still as tight as the first day I fucked you,” the Devil said, panting. “It's like despoiling a virgin every time.”

Sam just _knew_ he was blushing then. And moaning, because the Devil was really _pounding_ his ass; like a length of rock is pushing into him and making him squirm.

Turning his head to the side, Sam noticed the Devil's wrist was right next to his head, giving the demon extra leverage as he took Sam hungrily. Licking his lips, Sam twisted his neck just a little more and his tongue found once more the tender skin that had the Devil growling and breathing heavily mere minutes earlier.

“Sam,” the Devil growled, but Sam kept licking and biting. He was panting against the Devil's skin, pushed slowly across the duvet with the force of the demon's thrusts. He took the skin between his teeth, let his tongue tap lightly against it, moaned.

The Devil's breath became erratic. Sweat dripped down from the demon's overheated skin and onto Sam's chest. Sam could feel him literally _pulse_ inside him; he hooked his arms around the sturdy waist and tried pulling the demon closer.

_Yes._ He could feel every second of it as the Devil roared, threw his head back, came inside Sam in a flood of fiery heat and arched into the reaper hard enough to make Sam whimper.

Panting heavily, the Devil slowly drew out, his dishevelled hair hanging ruggedly around his face. Sam, still hard as a rock and with his tongue busily employed at the Devil's wrist, made a sound of complaint.

“I think I'm starting to make an impression,” the Devil said, rolling over to lie on his back. “Making me come before you? How selfless. You'll turn out a good slave, Sam.”

Sam sighed in defeat and took his own cock in hand, stroking it quickly. It wasn't the first time the Devil left him to tend to his own needs; in fact, the Devil rarely did much to ensure Sam got off at all. He was pure evil, after all.

Sam whimpered as his orgasm began teasing at the edge of awareness, the tell-tale tingle running up his spine and through his entire body. His breath became pants, his eyes slid closed, his mouth was open in a desperate need for enough air.

And then he was suddenly kissed, soundly and thoroughly, and with his mouth full of the Devil's tongue, Sam came, mewling at the back of his throat as he spilled his need over his own hand.

“You taste good when you come,” the Devil grinned, then began placing little just-the-other-side-of-painful bites down Sam's throat. The reaper could only breathe until the Devil's teeth found a place that made him moan loudly.

“Again,” he demanded without thinking. The Devil chuckled so evilly and bit it again; this time, Sam cried out and fisted a hand in the Devil's hair.

“Looks like I've found my revenge,” the Devil purred, and then proceeded to keep Sam on the verge of orgasm for an hour straight – by doing nothing more than sucking, biting and licking that spot on Sam's neck that had him thrashing around on the duvet in pure pleasure.

When finally, some seven orgasms and three hours later, Sam was brought carefully back to his own world with the Devil himself as an escort, he dared to turn to the demon and give him a quick kiss. The Devil gave a snort of laughter, but opened his lips and allowed Sam to kiss him properly.

“Goodnight, Sam.”

“'Night... Diablo.”

Andi was right; the Devil _did_ like that. He was laughing and grinning all the way back to Hell. Of course, that could also have something to do with the perversely large and dark love bite Sam's neck sported at that time (mirrors had evaded them completely while on that bed). But the new ethnic pet name did a great deal to make Lucifer smile.


End file.
